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425words
While she stuggled on the muddy paths to school,I had private tutors.While she toiled with clay,I studied fashion,nails,and hair,opening my own boutique.While she worried about the basics of living,I became a top fashion designer...
People pitied her,saying she was ruined choosing our Mom,a country folk,while I lucked out with Dad's wealth.
Even the rich boy she had had a crush on for years became a random guy among my many suitors.
She hated me,believing I stole her rightful wealth and love.She hated Mom for taking her,not me.
In a rage,she smashed all of Grandma's ceramic artworks.
Under cover of night,she burned Grandma's thatched house,severely injuring Mom and Grandma,who were both hospitalized.
Gleefully,she sought Dad,only to be mistaken for a beggar and thrown out by his staff.
By chance,she saw me shopping with a billionaire's son.
Jealousy consumed her and crushed the last trace of humanity in her.She charged at me,pushing me into traffic.As a car barreled toward me,I grabbed her tight,pulling us both to our deaths.
Yet we both returned to this moment of choice.
She chose Dad without hesitation this time—penniless now,but destined to be a famed philanthropist and businessman.
It was her chance now to get a taste of the life I endured.
Mom and I took a twelve-hour bus to Grandma's.
From a distance,I saw Grandma on a stool,deftly shaping clay on a potter's wheel.
"Mom,we're here,"Mom called.
Grandma shot one glance at us, then continued her work.
"Wash your hands and start,"she said.
No pleasantries—just ceramics.
I followed Grandma's instructions,washing my hands and sitting beside her,studying her every move.
Kneading,rolling,pinching,pressing,squeezing—in moments,a plain clot clay became a vase in her hands.
Finished,she turned to me.
"Thought it through?You really want to learn this with me?"
I met her eyes,nodding.
"Good.From today,you learn ceramics here.No rest.If it's too hard for you,leave now."
"Grandma,I promise I'll learn most attenttively."
No matter what,I'd never return to Dad.Those memories were a nightmare I wouldn't relive.
I wore cheap burlap clothes and shoes Grandma wove herself from straw,walking twenty miles every day to school.
After finishing homework in every break in school I could find,I studied ceramics with Grandma at home.
On rainy days,lying on a wooden bed,watching rain drip through the thatched roof,I found it oddly charming.
On weekends,I buried myself Grandma's notes.
Despite the intense schedule,I wasn't exhausted.
I felt I had more time to enjoy the beauty and joy in life.
Months of peaceful days passed until two people disrupted the calmness.
